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Elizabeth’s ears burned. She hardly knew what to think or do, except that she could not be found eavesdropping on such a conversation. She went quickly to the library, thinking to fetch a book and settle her nerves before joining the others.
Her eyes, which you consider so fine. Pretty. Beauty. Handsome enough.
To hear herself spoken of in such a manner was unsettling to say the least. For such a defence to come from one such as Mr. Darcy was altogether shocking.
Finally, when her pulse slowed, and she felt that enough time had passed that those gathered in the drawing room must be speaking of something else, she selected a volume of Shakespeare and made her way thither.
Chapter 9
On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them, but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with the book she had brought with her from the library. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.
“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he. “That is rather singular.”
“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else.”
“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader, for I read only what amuses me, and I take pleasure in many things.”
“I wish that reading amused me more,” said Mr. Bingley. “I must apologise for my poor excuse for a library. I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit, but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into.”
“I found the library adequate,” she replied.
“Should you desire any others, my library is always at your service. And as I ought to expand it, should you wish any titles to be bought from Meryton, you need only say the word, for your taste is certainly more to be trusted than mine.”
“You do yourself too little credit, Mr. Bingley,” she said with a laugh. “Already I had difficulty selecting one from what you have. If you offer me all the contents of the bookstore in Meryton, I shall do nothing but read while I am here.”
“Mr. Darcy, you are always buying books for your library at Pemberley. Perhaps you ought to assist my brother in improving our selection. It is shocking to me that my father should have left so small a collection of books,” Miss Bingley suggested.
“In times such as these, it is not difficult at all to fill a library,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Your father did well in ensuring the classics were provided, as well as the books that might be needed for a gentleman to improve the management of his estate. Yet there is little else. No histories, poetry, or novels to be found.”
“You read novels, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“On occasion, although I read many more now that my sister is old enough to be interested in novels as well.”
“Miss Darcy must have the very greatest taste in literature,” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “How is she? Has she grown much since the spring? Do you think she will be as tall as I am?”
“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”
“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”
“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”
“What do you mean, Charles?” asked his sister.
“I mean all young ladies are accomplished. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”
“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”
“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.
“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”
“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”
“Oh, certainly!” cried his faithful assistant. “No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word, and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”
“I cannot agree with you, Miss Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy. “Should a lady divide her time among so many pursuits, she shall become truly accomplished at none. It is better to devote oneself to a few things, for then one can become a true proficient. Her manners, as you say, must be genteel, but to this she must add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
Elizabeth looked up, her eyes meeting Mr. Darcy’s. A sudden heat rose in her cheeks, and she glanced away, her fingers tracing the embossed title on the book she held. Not an hour ago, she had been certain of his disdain following Lydia’s behaviour; now, he had just described an ideal that felt tailored to her very self. The contradiction left her unsettled, unable to reconcile the proud man she had assumed him to be with the one who had just spoken.
